In just over a week, Collage Macabre: An Exhibition of Art Horror opens it’s proverbial doors, and we’re beyond excited to invite you in to take a look around…
Your work will betray your secrets. Obsessions, hidden desires, and desperate wishes all woven into the fabric of what we make. A sculpture crafted with longing, a painting of a dream just barely articulated, the craving that cannot speak its name buried in a short film’s score. Old want only spoken aloud through someone else’s voice. Need etched on someone else’s lips for all the world to see. A false self created for the audience to claim as its own, still hiding what it knows.
Through these eighteen stories, dread is the medium of choice, winding its way through each unsettling and terrifying tale about human creation, the artistic follies and triumphs we imbue with so much meaning. You will find artists and audiences alike grappling with confrontations beyond their comprehension, works that require more than careful consideration—sometimes a little bit of blood is necessary. Art is alive if you are. Inside these pages you will be asked to open yourself up like a wound and expose your mind to the darker side of our oeuvre.
It’s not too often you get to say you’ve actively and personally seen the blood, sweat, and tears that have gone into curating an anthology, but for once I know first hand just what went in to Collage Macabre. Besides the obvious love and passion our authors have for their craft, it was fascinating watching seeds be planted and nurtured into new, strange things, the chipping away and the sewing onto, and the learning curve and exploration it was for many, too, both in the writing and the collection of the stories.
And truthfully, art horror is just so fun to work with and read. It’s an endless net of opportunities and and extends to so many facets of horror. It’s layered and obsessive, desperate and addictive. It can excavate or it can hide. You can imagine bright, colourful caricatures of people and moods and actions, or hear the morose, greyscale hum of static swallowing you. It’s so very alive.
We hope to see you at the exhibition.
April 18th.
